


Knock, Breathe, Shine, and Seek to Mend

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Master/Slave, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintracks/pseuds/traintracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"What do you want?" James' voice was all breath. Al wouldn't look at him. He didn't know what was happening. Well, part of what was happening was obvious: He was erect again, and this time he didn't have the morning wood excuse. But what was happening with Jamie... That was another matter.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock, Breathe, Shine, and Seek to Mend

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt at the Summer of Slaves fest (I think that's what it was called): fuck or die - Character A has been cursed and the only thing that will save him is a complicated bonding spell in which he is bound to Character B. Maybe they don't realize it's a slave spell... or that it's permanent... but now Character A has to be 'fucked' by Character B (regularly?) or the curse will continue to manifest. by kitty_fic
> 
> The title is taken from the John Donne poem, "Batter my heart, three-personed God, for You", included at the finish.

 

"Don't open--!" Albus shouted from across the flat, but it was too late, and the glowing dust rose from the page of parchment into James' face. "That."

Al watched James blink, and then his brother began to read:

"'Whomever you look upon first shall be your Master and you his slave and--' What are you doing?"

"Bloody hell, you did it! Why did you look at me, Jamie? I was trying to get behind you so you wouldn't, you idiot!"

"Well, thanks for cluing me in," James grumbled. But then his eyes shot back to the parchment. 'Whomever you look...' Oh, fuck."

~

The sun had long set, and James and Al sat in the living room, the silence all but deafening. Al was too stunned to speak. It was James who finally asked, "Why didn't you tell me about the threats?"

Al buried his face in his hands to avoid his brother's gaze. James had this way of staring into him. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Seems like a little bit of worrying wouldn't have been a bad thing, Albus." James' voice was tight.

"The letters all came to the office. I didn't think..." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We need to tell someone."

"Oh, brilliant. Who?"

Al leaned back into the sofa cushions and stared at the ceiling, bouncing his leg.

"Would you stop that, please?"

"Bite me. I'm thinking."

Al's attention was on the water spot on the ceiling when the stinging pain made him jerk his left arm out of his brother's mouth.

"Ow! What the fuck?" Al looked down at James there on the floor in front of him, looking as stunned as Al felt.

"You said..."

"I said bite me. No, not again, Christ!"

James sat back, blinking wide-eyed at the carpet. "I don't know what happened."

"You bit me."

"Yeah."

Al sighed. "It's the thing."

"I know it's the thing. You don't have to tell me it's the thing." James' voice was rising. He stood and began to pace.

"I'm not hurt. Thanks for asking," Al grumbled.

"Oh gee, sorry," James mocked, running a hand through his own hair.

"Was it in your control at all?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I felt..." He swallowed hard and his skin flushed pink from neck to the roots of his hair. "Compelled."

Al steadied his breath. "We need to tell someone."

"Again, who?" James faced him, hands on hips. "You know, this may not be as embarrassing for you as it is for me, but--"

"What did the rest of the curse say?"

"Just that whatever my 'Master'" -- he made air quotes -- "wanted of me would be mine to fulfill and some other gibberish that sounded like it came out of a bad Shakespeare adaptation."

Albus had to smirk at that. He leaned forward. "Okay, in case you're prone to take this as some kind of declarative order, it's not; it's a suggestion. We tell Scorpius."

"No." James' eyes widened.

"Why not?"

"No bloody way."

"We could get him to ask his dad."

"Are you mental? If Draco Malfoy knows, Dad knows. Don't be an idiot."

"Hey! All right, I order you not to call me an idiot again."

James' swallowed, his lips parted, and he blinked his gaze down to the floor. He said nothing, and a shiver went through Al's body. He knew James like he knew no one else. If he'd said anything right then, it would have been to call Al an idiot once more. Al would have laid Galleons on him saying it for pure spite.

"Merlin..."Al breathed.

James looked at him again. "Don't even think about it, Albus."

"Well, I can't really help but think about it. You'd think about it in my place. Hell, you'd already have me scrubbing the loo with my toothbrush."

James had the grace (or intelligence) to look guilty. But then he said, "We can't tell Scor."

"Teddy?"

"He's in Romania."

"Hugo or Rose?"

"Please," James scoffed.

"Mum?"

"Bloody hell, no!"

They each sighed. Then Al asked, "What do we do?"

"Nothing," James said. "We wait. We sleep on it. We figure this out ourselves."

"You're being needlessly stubborn," Al told him. "I should order you to tell Dad." Al watched James go red in the face. He felt a small, evil thing bloom inside of him. "I won't," he added. At James' exhale, he went on. "But I am going to order you to dance for me."

"What?"

"We have to try this thing out, right? In order to stop it. So." Al shrugged and leaned back into the sofa, his arms along the back, ankle propped on his knee. "Dance for me, Jamie."

James looked absolutely affronted, but his feet began shuffling back and forth.

Al just blinked, stupefied.

"I'll get you for this," James seethed.

"Oh my God..." Al breathed.

"Bugger off."

"Shimmy," Al instructed.

"Plonker. Ponce. Gigantic git." James shimmied.

"Can't call me an idiot, though, can you?"

James turned bright red again and went completely silent.

"Oh, all right, stop dancing. We'll figure this out tomorrow, okay?"

James' feet stopped shuffling. His shoulders stilled. "Are you going to bed then?"

"Yeah. You should, too."

James inhaled. "Is that...?"

"No, of course not."

Al had thought James would relax at that. But he didn't seem to. He frowned and nodded. And then he just stood there.

"What's going on?" Al asked.

James looked everywhere but at Al. "I... I think I need you to."

"Oh." Al leaned forward on the couch. Something hot and icy at the same time flooded through his body. "Oh," he said again.

"Just say it, will you?"

"James," Al said. "Go to bed."

James firmed his jaw and stomped from the room without hesitation.

Al watched him retreat, the guilt of having his brother as his slave very nearly outweighing the headiness.

~

Al was awakened by his bedroom door slamming open.

"Just...What do you want?" James huffed. He was panting as though he'd run around the block a few times.

"What's going on?" Al said blearily, propping himself on an elbow and rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"7:04."

"Oh. What are you doing in here?"

"You really don't know? You can't feel that?"

"Feel what? How hungry I am?"

"Is that it?" James asked, frowning further.

"Is what what?"

James strode into the room and stood over Al. For the first time, Al got a good look at him. He looked awful -- clammy, pale, his eyes glassy, pupils wide. "I--"

"What?" Al asked, sitting up further.

"I need you to tell me." James looked like he would have rather died than say that.

"Tell you what?"

"What it is you want from me!" James fairly shouted. But he didn't look angry. He looked anguished.

Al swallowed and, at that moment, realized he had an absolutely enormous morning hard-on. He tried to surreptitiously pull a pillow into his lap. James stood there, barely able to catch his breath, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his naked chest, his strong shoulders and arms. Al gulped and looked away. "I, uh…I'm hungry," he said, because he was. He really actually was. He wished James would take a step back. He smelled like his laundry soap, all herby and warm.

"And?" James asked through gritted teeth.

"And make some breakfast, Jamie," Al said just to get him out of the room.

James sighed, his whole body relaxing. "What would you like?" he breathed without a hint of rebellion. He was the epitome of relief.

"Uh, fried eggs and toast with jam?"

James sighed again, and then he strode from the room to make Al's breakfast without another word.

Al flopped back down on the bed. He pulled his wand from the nightstand, charmed the door closed and locked, and hurriedly stroked one off before James could come back and ask if he wanted coffee.

~

"You know, I always did want to get to boss you around," Al told him around a bite of toast. "You bossed me around plenty."

James looked affronted. "I did not."

Al snorted and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Do you remember Aunt Hermione's birthday that time?"

"With the egg salad?"

Al laughed. "Yeah, that. You had me doing your laundry for a month, you bastard. It wasn't even my fault."

"If I remember correctly, you blamed Lily. And it was your fault."

Al smiled at his brother. James had bossed him around. But he'd never been cruel. He'd never abused Al or Lily or lorded his status as oldest over them. Much. Al had always admired him, and they'd always gotten along. Hell, they'd gotten a flat together just as soon as Al left Hogwarts. Neither had ever assumed it would be any other way. Al knew he wasn't entitled to any comeuppance. Maybe that was where the guilt came from.

Maybe the guilt didn't have anything to do with how fit James looked in a t-shirt and denims -- that he always had. That where Al was skinny and pale, James was muscular and tan, and Al had never failed to notice the difference.

Maybe it didn't have anything to do with how his brother smelled coming out of the shower. With the sexy way his lips quirked up on one side when he was pleased with Al. With how James would ruffle Al's hair and then they'd get into a wrestling match. With how Al always, always got hard from it.

Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the fact that Al had had a crush on James since he could remember.

"What are you thinking?" James asked him suddenly, and he was giving him that goddamned look -- the one that went through Al's bones like a spell.

"Look, I've got to go into the office today," he said. "I'm giving that speech at that meeting on new werewolf bite care standards, and I've been working on it for weeks."

"I know." James nodded.

"I can't imagine wanting you to do anything for me while I'm at work, Jamie."

"Oh, can't you? Wouldn't it be great to demean me with coffee errands and dictation? I could shine your bloody shoes."

"I've got interns for that."

"They shine your shoes?"

"No," Al admitted. "But you've got that practice today, right? The scrimmage with the Harpies?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I want you to go to that."

James sighed. "How magnanimous of you."

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah." James looked worried now.

"It'll be all right," Al told him, reaching out and laying his hand over his brother's.

The change was instant: James exhaled in a whoosh, his body relaxing and his eyes fluttering closed. Al could feel James' pulse firing under his fingers. James opened drugged eyes and looked at him imploringly. His expression was one of pure longing.

Al ripped his hand away, dabbed his mouth again, and stood. "I have to go to work."

"What do you want?" James' voice was all breath.

Al wouldn't look at him. He didn't know what was happening. Well, part of what was happening was obvious: He was erect again, and this time he didn't have the morning wood excuse. But what was happening with Jamie…That was another matter.

"I want..." Al began.

He heard James hold his breath.

Al looked at him, frowning. "I don't want you to worry, Jamie," he said.

A flash of something -- attempt at obedience maybe -- swept over James' features, his body wilting a bit, but the frown didn't completely dissipate even when he nodded.

"Why don't we try an experiment?" Al said, the idea coming on him rather suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Like…I'm going to order you to start cleaning the kitchen at two o'clock. Your practice isn't until four, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, I'm going to order you to clean the kitchen at two. Maybe you should…try not to do it."

"But you're standing there telling me you want me to try not to do it."

"So?"

"So, that's what you really want."

"But I'm ordering you to clean the bloody kitchen at two o'clock," Al huffed.

"Yes, and I'll do it, but the curse specifically states that it's whatever you want of me that will be mine to fulfill. What if it's less about what you say and more about what you want?"

Al looked away. He cleared his throat and took a towel to a splash of spilled coffee on the counter top. "Well, I don't want anything from you," he said quietly.

"It's worth a try, though, I think," James said.

"What?"

"The kitchen thing."

Al turned and smirked at him. "It does need a cleaning."

"Yes, but it was your bloody turn now wasn't it?" James smiled at him, too.

"Clean the sodding kitchen, Jamie," Al said, throwing the towel at him. James caught it. "At two o'clock," Al went on. "We'll see if proximity has anything to do with it, too."

James took a deep breath and let it out. He picked up his coffee mug but then made a face when he sipped.

Al held out his hand and waggled his fingers impatiently. James handed him the mug, and Al dumped the cold stuff and refilled it with hot, sliding it back across the table.

"Thanks."

Al shrugged.

"You don't want to be late."

Al sighed. "Floo me if you have any…problems."

"Yeah, okay."

Al looked at his brother sitting there warming his hands on his coffee a moment longer. His long fingers drumming lightly along the sides of the mug.

His slave...

Al turned, grabbed his briefcase, and headed out the door.

~

The Ministry was a madhouse that morning, and Albus had to wait at the damn toilet ten minutes before flushing in.

He was hit by three interdepartmental memos before he even stepped into the lift, and by the time he'd reached his office, he'd been accosted by four of his colleagues about various problems they were having, meetings that had been delayed or moved up, and urgent matters galore.

By two o'clock he was regretting ever having gotten out of bed. He'd been so busy with minor disasters, including his notes on his meeting's speech having gone missing, that he hadn't had a chance to research their problem. He thought about flooing James just to see how he was doing, but he didn't want to, in any way, interfere with their little experiment. All in all, Al felt like he'd not been able to take one step forward at all, and had in fact, been thrown back on his arse.

"Briggs!" he yelled to the outer office.

"Sir?" Briggs poked his head in.

"Can you ask Ms. Wolcott if we can meet at three? I still haven't found--"

"These?" Briggs asked, holding up Albus' werewolf bite care standards notes.

"Where--"

"Don't ask." Briggs handed him the notes. "Still want me to--?"

"No. Uh, just…Could you see if she can bring the stats on that potion that the Albanian witch--"

"Adelina Nesimi?"

"Yes, her. See if Wolcott can bring those stats, all right?"

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

Al sighed. He rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, do you know where my father and Auror Malfoy are?"

"You know I don't, sir; it's classified."

"Of course it is. Do you at least know their return date?"

"Don't you have that, sir?"

"Do I look like I have that, Briggs? Do you or do you not keep my calendar?"

"Sorry, sir."

"No. Shit. I'm sorry. Look, could you owl my mother and…"

"Yes, sir?"

"And..." Al cast a hand over his eyes. "Never mind. It's nothing. Just make sure we've got all the information you can find on Wolfsbane and how it interacts with the Nesimi potion."

Briggs nodded. "A week from today," he said.

"What?"

"The return date for your father and Mr. Malfoy. It's a week from today."

"Thanks, Briggs."

"My pleasure, sir," Briggs said and left the office.

My pleasure.

Al wondered if he meant that. What did people mean when they said such a thing? Did they mean it literally? Was it pleasure for some people to do things for others? Al had always struggled with that a bit. As he'd feared, he'd been Sorted into Slytherin, and though he'd never felt like a bad person, per se, he never really knew what made people like his brother and his father tick. Al enjoyed a good puzzle. He liked a challenge. And often cooperating was the only way to get a thing done right. But doing good things for other people because it felt good?

The only person he'd ever done things like that for was James.

Al sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair. He needed to take a breath while he could. He opened the blinds over his window and let the magical afternoon sun wash in. No sooner had he done so than James' head popped into his floo.

"This sucks," James began without preamble.

"The kitchen?"

"I'm having a really hard time not doing it, Al. It -- It hurts."

Albus knelt on the floor in front of his brother's face. He had to stop himself from reaching out and trying to touch him. The frustration in James' voice was palpable. Maybe it should have felt good to know his big brother had to obey his every command, but right now Al just really wanted his best friend back -- someone he could complain to about his day, someone he could lean on. James had always been that for Al.

Maybe if Al needed his big brother, all he had to do was order it so.

"Okay, look, I don't give a toss about the kitchen."

"Mr. Potter?" Briggs called.

"Not now!" Al shouted back. He turned back to James' face in the floo. "Do not clean that kitchen. I want you to go to the store after practice and buy a couple of really good bottles of firewhiskey, okay?"

James nodded. "Yes."

"Just be there when I get home, all right, Jamie?"

"Yeah."

Al sighed. "Thank you."

James took a deep, cleansing breath. "Anything else?"

Al hovered on the edge of something. Then he swallowed. He blinked. "No," he said softly. "Briggs needs me."

"I'll see you later then," James said, his fiery face wavering. Al couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling, and that fact was discomfiting to say the least.

"See you later, Jamie."

His brother's head disappeared from the floo. Al looked down at the strained fabric at the crotch of his trousers.

"Goddamn it."

~

Al stopped at Borgin and Burkes on the way home and walked in the door to the flat laden with his shopping bags and his briefcase. James was at his side, taking some of the bags, before Al had even thought to yell for his help.

"Got it," James told him when Al almost dropped a file full of parchments that hadn't fit in his case. James smiled at him and then dropped his eyes, taking the things into the living room. "What is all this?" he asked.

"I got some spell books that might help us."

"You don't think finding out who sent you that letter should be our first priority?" James asked, beginning to go through the bags.

"I've asked Briggs to gather all the letters anyone at the Ministry has received over the past six months -- see if we can spot any patterns." Al stripped off his tie and draped his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair with a sigh. He was worn out. The day had gone on far too long, and if Al was honest with himself, it was good to be home again, no memos flying around his head. Home again with his brother.

"You work that man too hard," James told him, already flipping through a book on dark spell work.

"He likes it," Al said but at James' sharp look, he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. "Did you pick up the firewhiskey?"

"Liquor cabinet," James said.

"How was the scrimmage?" Al took down one of the bottles and two glasses.

"Larissa broke her nose on a bludger."

"Shit," Al winced, plopping down in the armchair. "Don't you mean a bludger broke her nose?"

"No. She flew into it."

"How do you fly into a bludger?"

"How do you catch your broom on fire in a downpour with no lightning?" James asked. "She's a menace. I'd let her go, but no one scores like she can."

Al smiled. "I'd lay Galleons you could."

James actually blushed. Al watched him concertedly control the half-smirk that almost took over his lips. "Are we talking in code or are you challenging me to some one on one?"

"Hell, no," Al answered. "Do I look like I want my ass kicked tonight?"

James looked at him. "Looks like it already has been. How was the meeting?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's drink instead."

Now the smirk was back, and Al had to look away from it. James had a killer smirk. Witches fell at his feet for it. Al poured them both two fingers and then sat back, sighing. He raised his glass. "To outsmarting bloody curses."

"As if you really want to," James said. He sipped.

"It's not all that great, you know."

"That's because you have no imagination," James told him.

"Now who's issuing challenges?"

James looked at him from under his lashes. "You were right before," he said. "I'd have you writing poetry about my incalculable excellence by now."

Al smiled. "Down your drink, brother."

James' lashes fluttered closed and he tossed back his whiskey, grimacing a little and licking the stray moisture from his lips. "Happy?"

"I'm practically delirious."

"Are we going to do some research or are you just going to order me to do things I'd already planned on doing all night?"

"A little of each?"

James broke into a smile and threw a book at him.

~

"I think it's this one."

"It is not that one. We tried that one. Give me that."

James handed over the book.

Al read the incantation over again. "No, that's wrong. It's specifically for curses that come by wand. Here, look." He leaned over and James leaned in and read, frowning.

"Bugger."

"Yeah. I should have picked up more books on potions instead." Al fell back into his chair and ran both hands through his hair, sputtering air through his lips.

"Don't get so discouraged," James told him.

"Are you kidding? Why are you so patient all of a sudden?"

James shrugged. "I don't know. The firewhiskey?"

"How much have you had?"

James shrugged. "Dunno. But it's nice."

"Well, drink some more then."

James sighed and then took another long swallow. "You could really fuck me up, you know?" he mused. "You could kill me if you wanted to."

Al frowned deeply. "Don't talk like that."

James blinked up at him. "Whatever you say."

Al measured his breath. James' eyes were dilated. His skin was flushed a rosy golden hue. The fire they'd lit flickered in the moisture stuck to his lashes.

"What do you want, Albus?" James' voice was soft and low.

Al swallowed. He unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt. It was suddenly way too warm. "I..."

"Yeah?"

Al stared at him. A buzzing began in his ears. His cock started to fill and ache. "I need a shower," he said, standing abruptly. "Order some takeaway, would you?"

James looked up at him, somehow both tender and intent. He nodded. "My pleasure." Then his eyes dropped to Al's crotch before rising once more and meeting Al's frown openly.

Al strode from the room, the echo of his shoes on the floor like stones falling, like things crumbling down around his feet.

~

They'd demolished the pizza, and it was late. Too late to keep going with the research.

"I'm cross-eyed. I can't keep this up," he told James.

"You look exhausted."

"Thanks."

"No, you look depleted. You should stay home tomorrow," James said, suddenly his big brother again.

"How come you look like you could survive another three hours of this, Jamie?"

James shrugged. "Illegal potions."

Al hardly had the energy to even laugh at that. "I think I'll go in late."

"Good."

Al pushed himself out of the chair and stretched. His pajama bottoms slipped down his hips and he self-consciously tugged them back up. James stood, too.

"Do you…need me to tell you…?"

James didn't look embarrassed by it now. He didn't even look put out. He stepped in close. "You look exhausted, Al," he said quietly.

"You've already said that."

James reached out, and Al tried not to flinch as his hand cupped his jaw. Something in James' eyes flared. His breath was deep and long. Then he said, "Tell me."

Al tried to laugh it off. He dropped his gaze on a huff. "Tell you what, you poofta?" The moment it was out, Al could have died to turn back time.

James' hand slipped from his face, and where he'd been warm, Al was now stone cold. When Al looked at James, it was to see the light in his brother's eyes dim. James' jaw tightened. But he didn't step back.

"Jamie..."

"Just say it," James said in a cold, hard voice that scraped along Al's skin.

Al took a breath. He felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't look in his brother's eyes when he spoke. "Go to bed."

Al stared at the floor as James stalked away. He flinched when the bedroom door slammed shut.

~

James could only shut him out for a day, and Al could tell it pained him to do even that.

This thing -- whatever it was -- it hurt his brother. It hurt him physically.

Al had hurt him. And for that, he was beyond remorseful.

Al found himself doing something absurd; he started ordering James to do good things for himself. It wasn't completely absurd, of course, but it was transparent as a passive-aggressive attempt to get James to forgive him.

By the next evening, though, James had obviously had it with him.

"Look, I can't help but do it and you know that, but I can tell you don't actually give a toss if I'm drinking fancy teas or eating chocolates, so will you please give it up, Al?" He sighed. "I forgive you, okay?"

Al swallowed. "Okay."

"Now, tell me to do something real, goddamn it, before I fucking explode."

"Go to the movies with me," Al blurted.

"Like, the Muggle movies?" James smiled.

"Yeah. Unless you're busy…"

"Al. That really doesn't matter now, does it?" Again, James wasn't upset. In fact, he seemed almost amused -- and there was no firewhiskey in sight.

"Well, I care if you've got something else you want to do. I'm not a total prick."

"Not a total one, no."

"So you'll come?"Al felt foolish. Desperately foolish. He was holding his breath for Merlin's sake.

"Are you asking or telling?"

"Which would you prefer?"

James took one small step closer. "Tell me," he said.

"Come to the movies with me," Al said, blinking.

James sighed -- the sound indulgent and wonderful. "I'll get my coat."

~

It was pouring rain by the time the movie let out, and they were soaked when they reached the door of the flat, even though they'd Apparated there.

"Hurry," James shivered next to him as Al fumbled with his wand.

"Alohomora," Al called, and then they tumbled into the flat, stripping off their wet coats and ditching their shoes in the kitchen, forming cold puddles on the linoleum.

"Start a fire," Al said, and James did it. "Make us some hot drinks with plenty of firewhiskey," he added, and James did it.

Al went to his room and changed to a dry jumper and denims, but when he came out, James was still in his wet clothes, splashing firewhiskey into two mugs.

"Christ, Jamie, take those clothes off for fuck's sake."

James stopped what he was doing. He turned to Al and met his eyes. He shivered once, and without a word, he began stripping off his clothes.

Al opened his mouth to correct his order -- to say he'd meant for James to change clothes in his own bedroom, not undress in the kitchen. But the look on James' face stopped him. He looked completely at ease, absolutely calm and…He looked radiant.

Al stood there, feeling like the sickest of freaks, and watched his brother undress.

The wet jumper dropped to the ground.

James unzipped his soaked denims and then peeled them down his legs.

His boxers clung to everything -- but then they were down and off along with his socks.

James stood, then, naked, still damp, absolutely beautiful, his dusky cock half erect.

"Better?" James asked.

Al figured he had two choices: play it off or play his hand. Al grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, smiling, and chucked it at James. James caught it and threw it back.

"Go put some clothes on," Al ordered.

James blinked at him, his expression softening with something that looked like pity. "Whatever you say."

He walked out of the room, bare skin glowing over shifting muscles as he walked. Al's grip on the pillow tightened until it was a stranglehold.

~

Six days went by. They got used to this thing that had to happen. Al would see it tighten James' features -- the set of his jaw, the lack of eye contact -- and he knew he had to do it.

"Fetch me some tea, please."

"Send an owl to mom saying hi before she shows up at the front door unannounced, yeah?"

"Do some sit-ups."

Nothing too extraordinary. Nothing too…slave-like. Nothing James might not already have done.

There was always the relief. Although, more for some things than others. And though Al never admitted it, there did seem to be a correlation between how much he himself wanted something and the degree of James' relief.

For instance, Al liked to watch James exercise. So that one brought James more of a long-lasting respite.

"Do some push-ups," Al would say when he'd see James getting taut and antsy.

"How many?" James would sigh.

Al would shrug and throw out an insane number, something he himself could never do, but James never acted like it was that horrible. And he'd drop down to the floor and start, his muscles bunching, firing, his breath steady for longer than Al thought possible --- until after a hundred or so, his breathing would begin to labor, the sweat would break out, and if Al were lucky, his brother would grunt a little, deep in his throat…

When he was done, he'd flop over onto his back, panting, and he'd smile up at Al, still watching from the sofa, and Al would return the smile, then get up, go to his room, and wank so hard it hurt.

After the sixth day, their dad got home from the mission and reported that not only had a cell of Neo-Death Eaters been arrested in Minsk but that, due to Draco Malfoy's efforts, five members had been turned for the Ministry and were now undergoing extensive questioning about three more previously-only-suspected cells.

There was to be an office party that evening, and Al and James were, of course, invited.

"I don't want to go," James told him. "I don't have a good feeling about it."

"Thirty minutes. Dad's over the bloody moon. We have to make an appearance."

James nodded, staring at the floor. "All right. I'll go change."

"Wear that grey silk shirt Mum got you for Christmas," Al said without thinking.

James turned to him. "Not that I won't -- I can't not -- but can I ask why?"

Al swallowed. "It's just a nice shirt."

James disappeared into his room to change, Al did the same, and then they were off.

"What would you think about telling him?" Al asked again on the way into the Ministry, straightening the collar of his black dress shirt meticulously.

"You know what I think," James warned, a hard glint in his eye.

They walked side by side through the foyer, hands shoved deep into their pockets, the sound of music and laughter up ahead near the fountain echoing off the high walls.

"All right," Al acquiesced. "It's just that we haven't found the answer yet and--"

"I realize that. I'm the one who's cocked up here, okay? It should be my decision."

"Fine. All right."

James nodded beside him and then Al saw him paste on a fake grin. "Mr. Malfoy. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Draco Malfoy said with perhaps the most genuine look of pleasure Al had ever seen on the man's face. Well, when he wasn't staring unchecked at their father, rather.

James shook his hand and then Al took his turn.

"Harry tells me you're going to take the World Cup this year," Draco added, sipping his drink.

James shrugged. "He's always been an optimist."

"Tell me about it."

"Have you seen him?" Al asked.

Draco looked around. "Seems he was…Here he comes."

Their dad was nearly bounding over, almost sloshing his drink with every step. He handed it to Draco, who took it with a huff and an obligatory eye-roll, while Harry hugged first James and then Al.

"Nice work, Dad," Al told him.

"Oh, it was him," he gestured to Draco. "I just stood there and held a wand."

Al could swear that Draco Malfoy blushed.

"How are my sons?" Harry asked then. "Lily owls me, you know. I get an owl a week. Even now while she and your mum are in San Francisco opening the magical embassy there. Okay, not an owl from all that way, but the floo. Do you even know how to use a floo, boys?"

"Dad…" Al warned.

"I have to hunt you down in Magical Creatures, which is bad enough, but you." He turned to James. "You, I have to wait and see on the telly. How are you, Jamie?"

James slanted Al a look but then grinned and nodded. "The team's playing great."

"So I hear," Harry said. "We've got tickets for the Quidditch World Cup already." Al knew both not to ask but to definitely assume he meant Draco. "Your mum's ready to take out a page in the Prophet extolling your talents. I told her she might as well put a 'kick me' sign on your back, but she's never listened to me."

"Thanks for the warning," James answered, but he was blushing.

"Albus, James, would you like a drink?" Draco asked.

"Bugger, give me that," Harry said, realizing Draco had his. Draco drained it and handed their dad the empty glass. Al tried to catch James' eye but couldn't.

"Great. Thanks," Harry said.

"I'd love a firewhiskey," James told Draco, and then Draco looked at Al.

"Same, please."

Draco looked at their dad. "Want another?" He wore an evil smirk now.

"Depends. Are you going to Apparate me home?"

Draco leaned in to whisper something to him and their dad laughed. "One more then," he replied. "Thank you." Then he actually winked at Draco before he walked away.

Al supposed the mission must have been successful on multiple levels.

They found a corner to hole up in and Al and James listened dutifully to all the details of the mission. Their dad sat forward in his chair, gesturing and telling stories, while Draco Malfoy perched on the cushiony arm, sipping a club soda and looking vaguely bored.

James laughed in all the right places and asked all the right questions at the right times, but Al could tell he was tense, maybe even in pain. Perhaps the night out really had been a terrible idea. But they couldn't very well have said no. Al decided they'd tough it out another ten minutes and then take their leave.

Wanting to give his brother some indication that he was aware of his plight and that they'd go soon, Al wrapped his arm around the back of the sofa they were sitting on and touched his hand to James' shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

The inhale was sharp and deep. James turned wide, uncomprehending eyes on him -- as though Al had done some terrible thing on purpose.

"You okay, Jamie?" Harry asked.

James' lips parted, and as Al watched, his pupils dilated, his lashes fluttered, and he gasped.

Al ripped his hand away. "Er, he had a stomach ache earlier. Said he didn't know if he should come," Al said.

James just licked his lips and nodded.

"Want some of this?" Draco offered his soda.

James shook his head, tried to utter a polite 'no', and failed.

Fuck.

This was bad.

Al stood. "Maybe I should get you home?" He looked down at James, and James looked up at him gratefully and nodded.

"Can we do anything? There's a Healer just--" Harry gestured toward the fountain.

"No. No, I've got him. I shouldn't have dragged him out. We've got potions at the flat."

"You're sure?" Harry had stood and reached out as if to catch James if he stumbled. He looked like he just might, too.

Reluctantly, Al took James' arm, and James shuddered violently.

"Can we Apparate from here, Dad?" Al asked, attempting to keep the urgency out of his voice.

Their dad pulled his wand and waved it. "You can now. Owl me later and let me know how he's doing, Al."

"Sure. Okay. He'll be fine." He nodded Draco's way. "Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded back, frowning.

Then before James could faint or start screaming, Al Apparated them away.

~

A new letter was magically affixed to the front door, but Al could scarcely concentrate on reading it when his brother was moaning and clinging to him.

"Inside," Al crooned. "Let's get inside."

Al half-carried his brother into the flat and sat him on the sofa. He pulled his wand and did a nullifying charm on any substances that might be lurking on the parchment. But there was nothing. Only the words:

Now he'll need you as he needs no other. He'll suffer terribly until you satisfy him -- until he satisfies you. Forever.

The arm holding the letter began to tremble. Al's mouth went utterly dry. As if to corroborate the message, his body thrummed with need, his cock almost unbearably hard in a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm his raging pulse.

Al looked down at James, who had his arms wrapped around himself and was rocking. He was whispering something, over and over again, his head bowed.

"Jamie…" Al murmured softly. He sank to his knees in front of his brother. "Jamie. What are you saying? I can't--"

James lifted his face then. It was streaked with tears. And he cried, "I need it!" in a voice that fairly ripped Al's heart out of his chest. "Please, Al. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease… Please, Al." And then the words they'd avoided now for days but that Al had felt hovering over them like the curse itself: "Please, Al. Fuck me."

~

When Al got up to pace, to try to fucking think for even just a minute, James moaned so loud that Al had to put up privacy charms or risk the Muggle neighbors calling their police.

"Jesus, Jamie," Al whispered, his hands reaching out placatingly yet touching nothing.

"Pleeeeaaassse," James cried. He crumpled, sliding off the sofa onto his knees on the floor. He was shaking. "Clothes...hurt…" he gasped out.

Al was upon him at once then. He could do this part. He could do this. Maybe if he did just this…

He pulled James' arms from around himself and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Shh, shh shh shh," he hushed as James moaned. "It's all right. We'll figure this out. We will."

James looked at him, his words coming from between gritted teeth. "Can't...figure...out. Need this."

Al stripped the shirt off but hesitated to touch James' trousers.

"Need it now," James cried. He turned his face away. "Don't make me, Al. Don't make me beg for it." His shoulders began to shake.

Al felt the hesitation in him melt away. Not completely, but enough. His brother was in pain and crying before him. James needed him. Al took a deep breath, something far down inside him stilling. He exhaled, the breath stirring his brother's sweaty hair, then Al deliberately took hold of James' trousers. He unbuttoned and unzipped them.

"Bend over the sofa," he said, and his voice hardly trembled. He yanked James' trousers down his thighs with his pants, revealing his hard cock, shining at the tip, the pre-come dribbling down the shaft.

James shivered, closing his eyes. Then he turned and draped himself over the sofa cushions, presenting his firm ass.

He'll suffer terribly until you satisfy him…

Al swallowed hard. James' back was so strong and beautiful -- his ass round, clenching…inviting.

Al didn't want to do it like this -- not like this, not because he wanted to. He wanted to do it to save his brother's life. He wanted to get it over with fast, to hate himself, to have to think of some bloke from his past.

Al didn't want to be so hard. He didn't want to want to touch James, to run his hands over his broad back, the globes of his ass…

To taste him.

"Please!" James wailed, and it brought Al back to the urgency.

He did have to do this. It wasn't his choice. It couldn't be slow and gentle. It couldn't be everything Al had always fantasised about. It had to be fast. It should be. It should be vulgar and business-like and horrid.

Al Accioed some lube from his bedroom and opened his trousers, staring as his brother's trembling body through a haze of new tears. He slicked up his cock and got behind him. He touched the head to James' tight pucker, heard his brother mewl with want, and drove it home inside him, slow and merciless, gritting his teeth all the way in.

James wailed, head thrown back in either pain or ecstasy. It didn't matter at this point. Al turned off that thing that wanted to croon, to pet and stroke, to ask, 'Are you okay, Jamie?' He turned off the part of him that had always wanted this. He turned off all of it. Everything but the feel of this unbelievably tight ass squeezing his cock just right.

Al turned off his heart, let the lust run rampant through him, and he took his brother's hips in his hands and thrust his cock inside of him. He bit his lip to keep the pleasure inside, to keep from groaning at how impossibly good it felt.

James' asshole was so hot and smooth, and as the lube warmed, Al sped his hips, whipping them and moving his brother's body rhythmically against the sofa cushions. The sooner it was over, the better.

But the whole time, James mewled and whined and said things like 'yes' and 'please more' and 'thank you'. He said, "Thank you, Albus," and broke Al's heart. Al reached around his brother's body, found his cock, and stroked it tenderly, keeping his own thrusting deep and short.

Just a few pulls and James orgasmed hard, his hips bucking back into Al's cock, his own prick slipping through Al's loose, come-slick fist. And his ass gripped Al's cock now, massaging it with those small, involuntary muscles. Al let go of his brother's dick and took his hips again, pounding in hard until the crest took him down, too, and he wailed, shooting hot ropes of it inside James, his whole body trembling with the exquisite force.

He'd just fucked his big brother, and even as the ripples of pleasure still rode him, Al withdrew, leaving a wet white trail against James' anus and his heavy bollocks.

Al fell back onto the floor, panting. He watched James wilt, his body relaxing finally and completely, head lain on the sofa, eyes closed.

Al stood before James could open his eyes and see him there and know it. Know it and see it all over Al -- the shame, the guilt.

The pathetic joy.

Al strode from the living room to the loo and turned the hot water on as hard as it would go in the shower. He washed and then stood under the spray for twenty long minutes.

But he could still smell James' sweat.

He could still feel the sweet spasms of James' ass as he'd come.

~

The knock on his door was soft. Al ignored it.

"Can I come in?"

"I don't think so."

Al heard his brother out there thinking, possibly feeling rejected. Al felt like throwing up. He picked up his wand and unlocked the door.

"Come in then."

The door creaked open and James, damp and in a robe, stepped inside. "Hey."

"Hey, how's it going?" Al asked flippantly.

"I think we should talk about this."

Al scoffed. "That ought to be fun." He couldn't bring himself to meet James' eyes.

James walked into the room, toward Al sitting on the bed. Al resisted the urge to scramble off the opposite side, putting furniture between them. He swallowed hard and fought the expression of disgust that crept onto his face.

"Do you hate me, Al?"

"What?" Al asked, finally shocked into looking at his brother.

"Do you hate me now, Al?" James crossed his arms. Al watched a bead of water dripping down his throat.

"No," he breathed out. "That's what you think?"

"What else should I be thinking?" For the first time, Al noticed that James' eyes were wet with tears.

"That I'm a monster," Al admitted.

"A monster? Al, you saved my life." James blinked at him.

Al couldn't help the sick laugh that erupted out of him. "Yeah, I'm a real hero."

James flinched. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't do that to yourself. Or to me."

"To you?"

James walked forward and sat near the foot of the bed. Al pulled his feet up reflexively.

"You do hate me. Don't you?"

Those words struck Al right in the center of his chest. He shook his head and straightened his legs again, settling his feet awkwardly next to his brother's hips. "I will never -- I can't hate you, Jamie."

James stared at his own hands in his lap. "What did the letter say?"

Al took a breath. "It said we'd have to do that."

"And that's it?" James chanced a look up at him. "It's over?"

Al could only shake his head sadly.

"I didn't think so," James admitted. His jaw worked, like the words didn't want to come out. "It doesn't feel over." He looked back up at Al, and Al saw all he didn't want to say.

"What do you want to do?" Al asked him.

Now James laughed mirthlessly. "I don't think that matters, Al. Does the letter say how…often?"

"No."

James nodded. He looked on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry, Albus."

Al instinctively leaned forward. He wanted to lay his hand on James', but he didn't dare. "Don't be sorry to me. You've done nothing wrong."

James looked at him. "Neither have you."

The sick feeling in his gut tripled. I wanted you, he thought. I want you.

I still want you.

"I think we should both call in sick tomorrow," he said. "Just to be safe."

James nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you…want me to tell someone now?" And as hard as he'd pushed for just that, now it was Al who feared doing so. It was Al who felt too deeply ashamed to face what had happened between them.

"Are you kidding?" James asked, the slightest bit of real humor sparkling now in his sad eyes.

Al breathed deeply. "What did you mean before? When you said not to do that 'to you'?"

James stood up and walked to the door. Al almost thought he wasn't going to answer him. Then, with hand on doorknob, he spoke, not looking at Al. "I meant that if I need you to fuck my ass every Merlin knows how many hours, it'll only feel worse to have you look at me like I disgust you, Al."

He opened the door, and Al sat up abruptly. "Wait!" he called.

James stopped but didn't turn.

"You don't disgust me, James."

His brother's shoulders lost some of their tension.

Al screwed up his courage and, before James could walk out, said, "Come and get me if you need me. Do you understand?"

James looked at him over his shoulder. "Yes."

He walked out and closed Al's door softly behind him.

~

Al hardly slept that night and was up early the next day. He made the coffee extra strong and started reading the Prophet at the kitchen table in the almost-dark. He read the same dull paragraph about a recall of bad Doxycide about six times.

Then James walked in.

"Hey," Al said.

"Morning," James answered.

"Coffee?"

"I can get it myself." James quirked a smile at him and scratched at his morning stubble.

Al cleared his throat. "Feeling all right?"

James answered while filling a mug, not looking at him. "You'd be the first to know if I wasn't."

Al decided not to say anything to that. He went back to his paper but just stared at the words which had turned to utter gibberish.

James sat at the table with him. He smelled warm and spicy. And he wasn't wearing a shirt, the bastard.

"Can I have the Sports section?"

"Sure." Al smiled tightly at his brother and handed him his part of the paper.

James unfolded it, took a sip of his coffee, and asked, "So, what are we going to do all day, just wait for it?"

"I don't bloody know," Al groused. "Do we have to talk about it for f-- Merlin's sake?"

"So you're not even going to say 'fuck' anymore?" James laughed. "That's going a little far." He sipped again.

"Oh, I'm sorry for being upset about this. I'll try for chipper, all right?" Al slammed his coffee mug down and splashed.

"That was chipper?"

Al glared at him. But then he realized James was right. It was sort of laugh or go mental. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to it, so he settled for making James clean up his mess. James just pulled his wand and took care of it with one flick.

"Cheater."

"You didn't specify." James shrugged. "Well. I guess I'll see what's on the telly until I need buggered, all right?"

"It's not funny," Al told him.

"I'm aware of that," James said, a little of the nonchalance slipping. "If you think I'm not mortified, you're barking."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." James took his coffee and went to sit on the sofa.

Where Al had fucked him.

Christ.

Al began cleaning the kitchen, aware every passing moment that the next could be the one.

~

Real Madrid had beaten Arsenal. Manchester United had beaten Argentina. And still Al knew nothing about Muggle football. He kept having to ask James stupid questions like, 'Why are they only using their feet?'

Still, it almost -- almost-- took his mind off fucking his brother.

Until it was time.

Al had felt it gearing up all afternoon. James had played it off as a headache, but Al knew better and wasn't sure why James was even trying to deny it. They both knew what the day was coming down to.

It was in the middle of fixing dinner when James suddenly turned to him, the pained expression on his face everything, and said, "I think…" and stopped, breathless.

Al nodded. He was determined not to make James feel horrible about it. So he dried his hands on a kitchen towel, put the oven on warm, and asked, "Bedroom?"

James looked so grateful for Al's matter-of-factness, it broke his heart a little bit.

They went to Al's room and left the lights off.

"Get undressed," Al ordered him, surprised at how easy that part was after all the innocuous practice at ordering James around he'd had the past week. Al stripped off his own clothes as James did his.

"Lie face down on the bed."

James shuddered with what looked like pleasure and moved to obey. Al's cock sprang to life, seeing that. And seeing the leaking hulk of his brother's bouncing cock as he walked. James laid himself down, turning his face away from Al and waiting.

Al crawled up on the bed and knelt between his brother's legs. "Are you sore?"

James took a deep breath. "A little."

Al took his own deep, cleansing inhale. He knew what he would do. He knew what he wanted to do. He took James' ass in his hands and began to gently knead.

"Oh God…" James sighed.

"I don't want to hurt you," Al told him.

"I need you to fuck me," James nearly growled.

"I know. But I want to go slow. I don't want to hurt you, Jamie."

James inhaled at the sound of his name. But then he nodded. He spread his legs.

Al felt the arousal course through his whole body, tensing his thighs and tightening his chest. He bent down, laid himself out between James' legs, opened the globes of his perfect buttocks with his thumbs, and started licking over his brother's anus.

James gasped, gripping the pillows to his face and moaning luridly. Al's cock lept up at the sound. And the taste. Because James tasted bloody fantastic. Al had almost always wanted to bury his face in his brother's tight ass. Ever since he learned that people did such a thing.

James' hole was red and tender, but Al was gentle, kissing more than fucking with his tongue, and soon James was moving, rocking and undulating against him, and they were both moaning from it. Al had begun fucking the sheets as he ate James' ass.

"Need…you…" James panted finally.

Al pulled his mouth away, his lips feeling swollen, tingling. He grabbed the lube from the table. "Finger?" he asked.

James shook his head no.

Al slicked his cock generously and squirted some lube right on James' hole, too. Then he got in position, aiming, and pressed forward. Once he'd popped inside, they both groaned again. Al drove himself all the way up James' ass, but this time, instead of not touching him, he laid himself out over his brother's body, his front to James' back, flush. Al wrapped his hands under James' shoulders for a little leverage, buried his face against James' neck, and started slowly rutting.

~

They didn't come as fast this time, but it was just as powerful. James screamed into the pillow and Al followed, crying out into the salty skin touching his mouth. He made every effort not to kiss James' back -- and failed. He came and came inside him, mouthing his sleek back the whole while.

Al could easily become addicted to the taste of his brother's skin.

Once he pulled out, Al collapsed beside James on the bed, face up. They took some time to catch their breath.

"Are you all right?" Al asked once he could speak. But still his voice was rough both from arousal and from screaming his release.

"Yeah." James sighed.

Al turned his head to see James gazing at him, expression inscrutable. "I'll get out of your bed in a minute."

"Take your time," Al told him.

"I want a cigarette," James confessed. "Is that bad to say?"

Al shot him a small grin. "No, I don't think so. Want me to conjure one?"

"Better not."

"Yeah."

They lay still and quiet for several minutes, then James asked him, "You're gay, aren't you?"

"Why, because I'm willing to fuck my brother or else he'll die?" Al huffed. His whole body went hot with ice.

"No," James replied. "Because I was always pretty sure you let Stephan Zabini suck you off a few times and because you've never dated a woman for more than a weekend."

"What difference does that make?"

"Probably not much. Except that I'd imagine it makes this just a tiny bit easier. You can always pretend I'm some hot bloke of your choice."

Al swallowed. "What about you? Did you get Dad's gay gene, too?" He held his breath. They'd never -- not even as close as they were -- never talked about this.

"Dad's bisexual, you--" The word 'idiot' died on his tongue. "He's bi, and yes, I got his gene," James informed him.

"You're bi?"

"Yeah."

"So you and Dad are bi and I'm gay."

"I'd love it if we could stop talking about Dad," James said, grimacing.

"Yeah," he agreed. Then, "Why did you never tell me?"

James shrugged. "I guess I thought you knew. I dated Jack Abbott for almost a year."

"You were dating him? I thought you were just…close."

"Really, really close," James said, smiling.

They were quiet again for several breaths.

"What are we going to do, James?" Al breathed.

"How quietly can you look into things at the Ministry?"

"Briggs hasn't traced the letters yet. I haven't told him what's in them. I can make a few more owls -- ask around myself."

"Grease some palms?"

"If I have to."

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem. I'll ask discreetly and no one has to--"

"No," James said. "For this." He sat up and looked down at Al, and the look on his face, the way the moonlight made his skin glow, took Al's breath away.

Al watched his brother get up and get dressed.

"I think it's pretty safe to assume it'll be once every twenty-four hours now," James said. "Maybe we should set a time when we meet."

"Late at night's probably best," Al ventured. "Won't drop you during a match or keep me home from work."

"Right," James said, pulling his trousers up over his ass.

"Are you hungry?" Al asked him.

James peered at him from the shadows. "I think…I'd like to be alone for a little while. If you don't mind."

"No," Al said, but something in him tightened with fear.

"Go ahead and eat if you're hungry. Just save me some leftovers?"

"Okay."

James picked up his silk shirt from the floor, gave Al one more wan smile, and left.

~

Al went to work the next day. He hadn't seen James that morning, leaving early and wanting to get a head start on Briggs' progress, if indeed he'd made any. Still, walking out of the flat felt strangely wrong. He had to do no more than step over the threshold to know he was missing something: a limb, the ability to take a deep breath, the succor to his body.

It was a misty grey day, and the mood wasn't much brighter at his office.

"There's an outbreak of doxies in Stoke-on-Trent," Briggs told him, having met him coming out of the lift and now walking briskly to keep up with Al's long strides down the hall.

"Is this related to the recall of Doxycide?"

"Allegedly. It seems to be multiplying the little bastards rather than eradicating them."

"I'll send Fran Longbottom tomorrow."

"They want you," Briggs told him.

"Who? Who wants me?"

"The Ministry field office in the West Midlands."

Al rolled his eyes. "Well, they'll have to deal with Fran. She's far better with infestations than I am anyway." Which was true, but all Al could actually think about was that it would mean being away from James. Which was impossible. For one very simple reason.

Unless he took James with him and they fucked in some hotel room somewhere.

Al cleared his throat. "What have you found out about the letters?"

"No patterns I can see, Mr. Potter."

They'd reached Briggs' office. Al sighed and walked through, unlocking his own. He turned back before securing himself away inside. "Briggs," he said.

"Yes?"

"Who hates me?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I said, who around these parts hates me? Is there anyone that has a grievance over something? A raid I did or a report that reflected unfavorably on someone? Can you look for those things?"

"Yes, sir. What's the priority, Mr. Potter?"

"Urgent," Al told him and then shut himself away in his own office.

They worked until nightfall, later than Al had intended, but the potions tomes he'd requested from the Department of Intoxicating Substances were thick and difficult to navigate, so Al found himself skipping lunch to get through even one. He was on the third of five and eating a cold sandwich when Briggs knocked on his door.

"Come in," Al called, mouth full.

Briggs strode in, looking somehow both triumphant and worried.

"What is it?"

"I've been looking over the new werewolf bite care standards information," Briggs told him.

"And?"

"And I found this." He laid a parchment down on Al's desk. "It's a petition to have the standards revised drastically."

"In order to do what?"

"In order to include administration of poison in certain cases."

"What, kill them?" Al blurted, stunned.

"It's a radical group out of Sheffield. Calls itself the Faction. Apparently, they don't want bitten individuals treated -- they want them exterminated. They renounce werewolfism as evil and think eradication of the species is the only effective treatment of the problem."

"Why didn't I see this petition when I was working on the standards the past six months?"

"Because Ministry Security has been handling it as a threat of genocide against werewolves everywhere. They've been acting on a classified level, and that's as far as I got with that. But this could explain the threatening letters you've received. You said they alluded to dark magic?"

"Yeah."

"Well, several of the names on the petition are high-level practitioners of the Dark Arts, able to come out of the Death Eater trials unscathed because they're not technically Death Eaters, merely enthusiastic supporters." Briggs pointed to the document. "I've highlighted those most likely responsible."

"Three names? You've got it down to three, Briggs?"

"Yes, sir."

Al exhaled. "I think I could kiss you."

"Thank you, sir," Briggs said, blushing. "Is there anything more I can do before I leave for the night?"

"Maybe one thing. Can you…?" Al stopped. He'd been about to ask Briggs to get his father in the floo. He knew this was something his dad could figure out and put to a stop in no time now.

No time.

"Sir?"

Al shook his head. "Never mind. It can wait until tomorrow."

Briggs smiled at him. "Goodnight then, sir."

"Goodnight, Briggs. And Briggs?" Al stopped him on his way out the door. "Outstanding work."

Briggs nearly beamed. "Thank you, sir." He stepped out the door and shut it behind him.

Al stared down at the names -- and all he could think about was getting home.

~

Al arrived home from work an hour before their set time. He shut the door quietly and listened for sounds of his brother. The shower was running. Al swallowed and set down his briefcase. He began to unknot his tie, walking slowly through the kitchen and then down the hall.

He could hear the splashing sounds as he unbuttoned his shirt, stripping it off and leaving it and his tie on the hallway floor.

Al unbutttoned his trousers. He unzipped them and kicked off his dress shoes. He stopped outside the bathroom door, listening, and pushed down slacks and pants in one, pulling off his socks with them and leaving the mess crumpled on the floor.

He tried the door. It was unlocked.

Three names.

Their father and Malfoy could have it wrapped up in a day.

No time.

Al's breath was trembling through him. He opened the door and stepped inside. Steam filled his lungs, and he shut the door carefully behind himself. He was already hard. He'd been hard for an hour. He wondered if his brother had tossed off -- if that would provide any relief at all.

Al stepped forward. He cleared his throat loudly. The shower door slid open and revealed James' surprised wet face, the raised eyebrows -- and then the immense relief.

James looked down Al's body, over his skinny chest and narrow stomach -- down to the protruding cock, dark and hungry. James lifted his gaze and met Al's eyes again. He opened the shower door all the way and stood back.

Al stepped into the shower, his stomach fluttering and breath short. His cock was bobbing in time with his pulse. James just watched him, his own prick long and rosy. Al took it in his hand, and James closed his eyes, exhaling.

Al slowly dropped to his knees.

"What are you doing?" James breathed.

"Shut up," Al told him. James shut his mouth. Al opened his. He took the head of his brother's cock inside, cradling it with his tongue. He couldn't help the hedonistic groan around its girth.

James was absolutely silent, but his hand came down on Al's shoulder and squeezed. Hard.

Al sucked off. "You can make noise, Jamie," he said. And when he took James' cock back inside his mouth and started sucking, James moaned long and loud.

The feel and taste of it was excruciatingly good. Al took it deep and then prolonged the suck back to the head, making the most obscene noises around it as he kept it tight in his mouth and licked and sucked, only to dive back down on the whole thing.

James had started shaking, his strong legs trembling under Al's hands. The water poured around them both, and inside this cramped, warm space, Al could pretend that this was the way it always would be. Just him and James. No one to judge it. Not even himself.

Al bobbed his head on James' cock in earnest, closing his eyes, relaxing his throat, and succumbing to his arousal and need without shame.

"Albus…" James whimpered. "Albus, I'm gonna…"

Al looked up at him, James' expression troubled and ready. Al took hold of his brother's hips and kept sucking. James gasped twice, arms limp at his sides, hips barely thrusting, and he came. Hot bitter semen flooded Al's mouth, and he groaned, swallowing it as best he could and letting the overflow drip from his lips, down his chin.

Al took one of James' hands and touched it to his own head. James' fingers immediately threaded into his hair as his head fell back and he shot the last of it into Al's stretched mouth.

Al didn't want to stop.

No time.

He sucked up and down James' softening shaft. He licked his brother clean, humming and nuzzling his cock and pubic hair and bollocks. James stroked his hand over Al's head, and Al could feel him watching him. Al sighed, breathing against James' soft dick, his head resting on his thigh.

I love you, he thought but didn't say.

~

"Still hurts," James breathed as Al got him to the bedroom, James' arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"I know."

"Still need it."

"I know." Al gently maneuvered James onto the bed and had him lay back into the pillows. "Wait, let me have one of those."

James took a pillow from under his head and handed it over.

"Lift your ass," Al instructed.

James blinked at him. Then he did it, and Al slipped the pillow underneath. He picked up the bottle of lube, then, and slicked his aching cock.

James didn't say anything about the new position -- that they were about to do it face to face -- but Al could see it in his eyes. The fear and the question.

And the horrible yearning.

Al got on the bed and bent James' legs up. James let him, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"How many fingers?" Al asked him.

James shook his head.

Al licked his lips, looking away, his prick throbbing to get inside. He knelt close and lined up. He braced a hand besides James' head, his other hand fumbling with his cock, trying to fit it right up against his brother's hole. Then he found the right angle, but before he pushed inside, he looked down into James' eyes. James was staring up at him. He took one second to just look down at him, then Al nudged, pressed, slipped inside, and began to slide in.

He gave James a moment to adjust, even though James looked more than ready. Al started fucking, and his brother's unprepped hole was heaven. Al grunted into the warm hug of James' body, the acceptance, how James' ass shaped itself around him.

James' arms were over his head, his hands wrapped around the slats of the headboard, and he looked lovely that way -- in a way that made Al want to thrust harder and faster, in fact -- but he wanted something else even more.

No time.

"Put your arms around me," Al whispered.

James did it, his arms coming around Al's shoulders and neck, his hands stroking along Al's skin, into his hair, over his scalp.

"Jamie…" Al groaned. He hadn't meant to. It just broke out of him like a vow of silence breached.

James' legs wrapped around him then, too, his feet on Al's pumping ass. It was so bloody glorious, Al wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh with the happiness.

Instead he leaned down, cupping James' face in one hand, slowing the fuck. He searched James' eyes for permission, even though he didn't need it. On a deeper level -- in a place they would agree to hold between them long after this curse had finished its work -- he did.

James' gaze dropped down to Al's lips, a tacit answer, and Al leaned down and kissed him.

They'd fucked, and tonight Al had sucked James' cock, but this -- kissing him -- was not something Al thought he would ever do.

Because it wasn't necessary.

It wasn't at all necessary.

And that's what made it even more wrong than his cock sliding in and out of his brother's tight ass.

Al pushed his tongue into James' willing mouth. James kissed him back, his arms tightening around Al's neck, and what had begun tentatively turned hot and rough, their mouths battling, shifting for the right angle, biting, wanting -- until Al felt it take him, and he came inside James, his lips gasping away on a cry only for the pressure on the back of his head to bring him back to James' mouth, where he whined his release, trembling and sweating, and James' tongue licked into him, soothing him, bringing him through to the other side. Absolving him.

~

Al had left James resting.

They'd shared no words when it was over, when James was replete in a way draining his cock couldn't even give him.

Al had risen while James dozed, gone to his own room, and found a pair of half-clean pajama bottoms, tugging them on and going to take a piss.

And now he was standing at the window in the living room in the bald dark, watching the wind move the tops of the trees, listening to it build and howl through their chimney. Al stood with his arms crossed, his dick still thrumming, the taste on his lips…

Jesus God, he'd kissed his own brother.

If Al had not known what he felt before…Well, now there was no question.

Al felt vile and elated at the same time. He mourned the inevitable loss of something he knew he never should have had.

That's the state James found him in.

"I fell asleep," James said from across the room.

Al spared him a glance over his shoulder and then went back to watching the trees.

"Wind's kicking up," James observed, walking slowly toward him. Al could hear the weight of his steps creaking the wood floors, could sense his imminent nearness.

"Yeah," he answered.

In three slow breaths, James was behind him. Right behind him. Pressing up against him, arms wrapping around Al's body. Al had been shivering. He didn't know when he'd begun to shiver. James was naked still and so warm. Al let his brother hold him, James' chin on Al's shoulder, his breath in his ear.

"Don't be sad," James crooned to him. "Don't be sad, Al."

"How can you say that?" Al asked him. "It's lose-lose."

"You don't know what's going to happen."

Al didn't even have the first clue what James meant by that, but he decided he didn't want to know. James was holding him, and it was the strangest, most exciting, most normal thing. Al touched his brother's strong arms, and James sighed against his back.

"I think we've almost got it," Al told him. "It's down to three suspects."

"And you're moving on them?"

"Not yet," Al admitted.

"I see."

"Tomorrow."

James resettled against him, pulling him even closer. He nuzzled behind Al's ear. "I see."

"James…" Al warned. But it felt bloody fantastic. Al's heart started beating faster. His cock twitched.

"Don't tell me not to do this," James whispered to him, his hand already slipping down Al's stomach.

Al said nothing and let James' fingers push beneath the waistband of his pajamas. He let it stroke lazily through his pubic hair.

Al leaned his head back on James' shoulder. "Are you in pain?" he asked.

"No," James said.

"Oh," Al breathed.

And then James' hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him. James' thumb rubbed unhurriedly along his shaft, over the head.

"God…" Al groaned, wilting a little in James' hold. James held him up easily.

James fondled his cock, pulling and petting, and he started pressing sweet little kisses against Al's temple, against his cheek.

"James," Al cried.

James found his mouth then, opened it with his own, and before Al could start coming in his expert fist, kissed him deep and long.

 

Epilogue

 

"I've been wanting one of these for months!" Lily fairly squealed, holding the cashmere sweater to herself and beaming. "Thank you, Dean."

"Happy Christmas," Dean told her, his arm around their mum and an eggnog in his other hand.

Al got up and stretched his legs, his own drink empty. "Anybody for another?"

"Yes, please," Aunt Hermione said. Draco and Scorpius Malfoy also lifted their glasses, and Al levitated the empties into the kitchen.

"I'll help you," his dad called, leveraging himself up off the floor pillow with a groan.

"Thanks, Dad," Al said with a small smile. He looked briefly at James across the room, but he was laughing at a story Rose was telling while she stroked an absent hand over her very pregnant belly.

Al and Harry went into the quiet of the kitchen, and his dad pulled down bottles while Al rinsed the glasses.

"How's your Christmas thus far, Al?"

"I can't complain," Al told him. "Aside from the Weasley jumper, of course."

"Of course."

"How about you? Nice watch." Al gestured to the shining platinum at his father's wrist, a gift from Malfoy.

"I can't complain," his dad answered, and Al couldn't not notice that he studiously avoided his gaze. All Al got was the back of his blushing neck.

Gross. But sweet, Al decided.

"Say, I heard something funny the other day," Harry said, turning to Al and starting to fill the glasses according to everyone's tastes.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I ran into Briggs in the hall at work, and he said the oddest thing."

"Yeah?" Al could feel his pulse speeding up. Bloody Briggs. He never could keep his mouth shut.

"Yeah, he said, 'Congratulations, sir, on taking down the werewolf gits.' Do you know what that means? Is he on potions?"

Al shrugged. "Probably. I ought to sack him." The tosser deserved it. "No, actually, it's just this thing I took care of a few months ago. Most of it took care of itself really. I handled the werewolf people. I mean, they weren't werewolves. It's complicated. But it's over. Nothing to get alarmed about." God, was he rambling or what?

"Oh, okay. So everything's all right then."

"Oh yeah," Al assured. "Completely." His face was burning hot.

"Good." His dad clapped him on the back. "It's good to see you so healthy, Albus. Are you exercising more?"

Al's lips split in a sick smile. "I dunno. I guess." He flashed on the night before. He supposed that probably counted as a type of calisthenics.

"You look well," his dad said again. "Happy Christmas, Albus."

"You, too, Dad."

There was a raucous laugh from the living room, and then the kitchen door swung open. "Everything okay in here? People are parched."

Al inhaled measuredly.

"Yeah, Jamie. We're just finishing up," Harry said. "Want to help pass these around?"

"Not especially. I came to get my own," James said, walking into the kitchen and beginning to sort through the liquor cabinet.

"Want some help, Dad?" Al asked.

"I think I've got it, actually," Harry answered.

"Okay," Al said. "I wanted to get another…thing anyway."

James slanted him a look.

"Um, okay," their dad said and then magicked the door open and the beverages through.

When the door shut behind him, James laughed. "A thing?"

"Oh, shut it."

"That doesn't work anymore on me, brother," James reminded him, and there was a definite smile in his voice. He turned with a finger of firewhiskey twirling in his glass.

Yeah, but I know what does, was on the tip of Al's tongue. He bit it back. Not the time or the place. Not the right relation, either, but that hardly seemed to matter much anymore.

"By the way," James said then, heading toward the door. "Your gift from me is back at the flat." Then the ponce winked, pushed the door open with his arse, and strode out. "Good luck finding your thing," he threw back over his shoulder.

Al took a deep breath, leaned on the counter, and counted to ten.

~

"Goodnight," Draco Malfoy said to them as he put on his coat.

His dad hugged him. "See you New Year's?" he said.

"Yeah, sure."

"You, too, James?"

James nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

Harry kissed Lily on the forehead.

"God, go home, Dad," she groused.

Draco stood by the floo looking impatient as hell.

Their dad donned his coat, shoved Malfoy, and then went into the floo ahead of him.

"Bastard," Draco hissed. Then he stepped in after him, declared in a huff, "Harry Potter's," and disappeared.

"Thanks for having us, Mum," James said, pulling his own coat on and making his way to the door. Al followed suit.

"Anytime. Happy Christmas."

Dean shook hands with James and Al. Lily was staying the night to do some Boxing Day stuff with their mum and Dean the next day. Al didn't know what and, frankly, he didn't care. He'd kept sneaking looks at James, and then his watch, and then James again over the last hour or so. It was getting ridiculous.

"You boys be good," their mum said as they got ready to Apparate home. A trace of stray guilt tightened Al's stomach briefly, but when he chanced a look at James' face it was to see a bright, genuine smile on it. Al let himself relax.

"We will," James told her -- because Al couldn't. Because Al couldn't speak at all. They walked down the pavement to the Apparition spot.

"Together?" Al asked quietly.

"Better not," James answered, not daring to look at him now.

Al touched his wand and felt the universe pull him home.

James was right behind him. "Let me do that," he said when Al's hands shook too bad to unlock the door properly.

James opened it easily and with a smirk no less. Then he looked both ways down the street for good measure before he turned to Al, smiling down at him. He looked straight into Al, like he always did.

"What are you waiting for, you plonker?" Al asked him.

His brother grabbed him by the shirt, dragged Al inside, and slammed the door.

 

End

 

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for You  
by John Donne

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for You,  
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.  
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend  
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.  
I, like an usurped town to another due,  
Labor to admit You, but Oh! to no end.  
Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,  
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.  
Yet dearly I love You, and would be loved fain,  
But am betrothed unto Your enemy,  
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;  
Take me to You, imprison me, for I,  
Except You enthrall me, never shall be free,  
Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.


End file.
